where dwell the brave of heart
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Nonlinear and unrelated Gryffindor drabbles:: 1. Neville never asked to be a leader 2. Charlie doesn't mind the bullies. At least he has Tonks
1. Not Like Harry Potter

_Word Count: 454_

* * *

Neville can feel his soul leaving his body as he stands before the small crowd of students. He wonders how many are there to satisfy their own curiosity, to watch him fail.

He shakes his head. Thinking like that will only make things worse. He has to focus, to at least pretend he can play this part.

"Right," he says, cheeks burning. "I'm sure you all wonder why you're here."

No one speaks; they only stare. Ginny offers him and thumbs up, like he's actually doing a good job. Luna just smiles at him before swatting at some imaginary creature.

Merlin. Maybe this was a mistake.

…

He wonders if Harry ever felt this nervous. Being a leader isn't easy, especially since Neville has spent his life in the background. Still, four meetings later, he thinks that maybe he can do this. He's no Harry Potter, but maybe he can make a difference.

…

"The Carrows never patrol on Wednesday," Hannah insists. "It's always Crabbe and Goyle."

"Too risky," Ernie says, shaking his head.

"What do you think, Neville?"

It takes him a moment to comprehend what's happening. They're turning to him, prepared to hang on to his every word. For the first time since he's taken this role, he truly feels like a leader.

Neville stands a little straighter, holding his head high as he weighs the options. After several moments of silence, he nods. "The Carrows are our biggest obstacle," he reasons. "If we can strike tonight, we'll be able to get it done."

When did the words start coming naturally? How long has this felt less like a burden and more like a duty? He isn't sure but it doesn't matter. He still see this through.

…

"This is it, guys." He paces in one direction, then the other, taking a deep breath.

He doesn't actually know what's happening, but he knows it's big. Harry wouldn't have come back otherwise. It ends tonight; Neville can feel it.

He looks around at everyone in the Room of Requirement. They're all just as tired, just as battered, but he can see the faintest glimmer of hope in their eyes. It makes the weight lift from his shoulders; he has lead them and given them hope, and it is one of the few joys left in this miserable school.

"Remember, no one is asking you to fight. Really, I hope it doesn't come to that."

It will, of course, but he doesn't say that. As their leader, his job is to guide them. How can he guide them if they turn and run?

"Whatever happens, we're in this together."

The crowd of students erupt in chatter, murmuring their agreements. Neville grins and steps back.

They are ready.


	2. Sweet Friends

_Word Count: 436_

* * *

"Oh come on!" Tonks says as they make their way through the aisles of Honeydukes. "I've been in love before. Everyone has!"

"Not me," Charlie says with a shrug.

He doesn't even think about it, really. While everyone is so busy falling in love and swooning over other people, he's just… there. It doesn't matter much, as long as he's happy.

"Oi! Weasley! Surprised to see _you _in here. Won't your family starve if you spend even a single Knut?" Michael Flint calls, smirking triumphantly.

Tonks takes a step forward, but Charlie rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. She is always so quick to defend him, so ready to fight. While he appreciates it, he doesn't want to cause a scene. He knows people will always insult his family. If he starts throwing punches at every insult, it will get tiring. For the most part, he saves it for the remarks that really cross the line.

"Not worth it," he mutters, cheeks burning as he turns away.

It bothers him, of course. He spent the summer helping people from his dad's department with household tasks, saving up enough to be able to enjoy his Hogsmeade visits. Now guilt twists his stomach, and the coins in his pocket feel so heavy.

"Somebody has to stand up to his mouth," Tonks insists, glaring over her shoulder as Michael and his friends exit the sweet shop. "I really hate that guy."

"Me too," Charlie agrees. "But, as glorious as it would be to watch you break his nose, it's probably best that you don't."

Tonks pokes her tongue out at him before grabbing a pack of freshly baked Cauldron Cakes from the shelf. "One of these days… I'm half tempted to try for Beater just so I can send a Bludger at his head."

Charlie snorts and shakes his head. As clumsy is Tonks is, she probably shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a broomstick. "That is a terrifying thought," he says, lifting a bright yellow lollipop and examining it. "Knowing you, you would find a way to knock yourself out."

She grins. "Probably. But it's nice to dream."

He shrugs and follows her to where Mr. Flume waits at his till. Maybe it is nice to dream of vengeance and righting the wrongs, but it doesn't have much impact on him at all. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter who hates him and hurls insults at him. All that matters is that he has the greatest friend in the world, and he will never have to worry about being alone in the face of adversity.


	3. Make It Right

_Word Count: 717_

* * *

It all comes crashing down, and there isn't a thing he can do about it. James stares, frozen and unable to say anything, as Petunia and Vernon climb to their feet, both red in the face and casting nasty looks at him and Lily. And then they're gone, and Lily is trying so hard not to cry as she tends to the bill.

"I asked you to do one thing," she says, her voice low and dangerous. "One thing! Don't ruin this."

James huffs, folding his arms over his chest. "Well, it isn't my fault I didn't get along with the idiot. I don't have a narcissistic deity complex," he says.

This is obviously not the response Lily wants. Cheeks glowing an annoyed red, she climbs to her feet, tugging her lavender jacket on a little too aggressively. "I'm beginning to think it all went over your head," she snaps.

"Nothing goes over my head." James smirks proudly. "My reflexes are too fast. I would catch it."

Lily doesn't seem to be in the mood for his quips tonight. She turns her back on him, storming off. It's only when James is alone at the table, awkwardly trying to figure out the Muggle money Lily had thrown down, that he realizes he might have misread the entire situation.

"Well," he mutters, sighing and ruffling his dark hair, "fuck."

…

Lily is in the living room when he makes it home. She doesn't even look up from her book; her disappointment and irritation are palpable. For several moments, all James can do is shuffle his feet awkwardly, searching for the right words to say.

"Please don't make me sleep on the couch," he says quietly. "It isn't particularly comfortable."

She still doesn't look up, but he can see her eyes narrow. "Really? That's all you have to say for yourself?"

James shrugs. "I don't see why it's such a big deal. You and your sister don't even get along."

And just like that, her calm and collected exterior seems to shatter. "No," she says, tossing the book aside. Tears glisten in her green eyes, and James hates himself when he realizes she's crying because of him. "No, we didn't get along. But she's my sister, and she agreed to sit down and have dinner with me."

James' insides twist. He had been surprised when Lily told him they were having dinner with her sister. He assumed it didn't matter in the long run. Lily made it clear that Petunia didn't like her.

He never imagined Lily wanted things to be okay again.

Now he feels like an idiot. He should have known! Why else would they have gone to that ridiculous Muggle restaurant? Why else would Lily have spent a majority of the evening getting ready and trying to calm her nerves?

"I ruined it," he whispers.

He had tried so hard to make Lily happy. Now she's hurt and upset, and it's all his fault.

"Oh, Merlin, Lils." He slaps his palm against his forehead. "I'm a bloody idiot. I'm so sorry. I didn't… I wasn't thinking."

Lily sniffles and wipes her eyes. After a moment, she climbs to her feet and walks over to him, throwing her arms around him and holding him tightly. "I just wanted my sister back," she says. The anger has drained from her voice, and she sounds so fragile, so pitiful. "I miss her so much."

James strokes her hair, making soothing shushing noises. He has never been good at comforting people, but Lily relaxes against. "You'll get her back. I'll find a way to make it right. But… Do we have to include her boyfriend?"

"James!" She pulls away, playfully slapping his forearm.

"What? His head is weird," James says defensively, shrugging. "And he sort of looks like a walrus."

The tears are gone, though their tracks still remain. She smiles, and it warms his heart more than he could ever say. "He does, now that you mention it."

"Come on. I'll make that chocolate dessert you like to apologize."

Lily laughs. "Are you really still hungry?"

"It was a posh restaurant with tiny portions. I am starving!"

Lily considers for a moment before nodding. "I'll forgive you if you make dessert _and _clean the kitchen."

James just grins. "Deal."


	4. Fight Like a Muggle

_Notable Witches and Wizards, task 4: Write about one of the following Muggleborn characters receiving hatred or prejudice because of their blood status (I chose Dennis Creevey)_

_Word Count: 700_

* * *

Dennis knows all about bullies. That's one thing the wizarding world has in common with the Muggle world: some people are just awful.

Before Hogwarts, the bullying was different. Dennis remembers being bullied for being short, for being too scrawny, for having too many freckles on his face… The list was endless.

The bullying at Hogwarts, though, seems like something else entirely. Sometimes Dennis misses the days of being pushed into a locker and left there until a teacher finally found him. Muggle bullying at least makes sense in its own way.

Dennis groans as he's hit with a jinx that makes him tumble to the hard stone floor. The impact splits the skin around his knee, and blood slowly begins to change his khaki trousers crimson.

"I thought it would be brown," Opal Selwyn says, her nose wrinkling as she points in Dennis' direction. "After all, you're a _Mud_blood, aren't you?"

Her group of friends laugh like it's the funniest thing they've heard, like Opal's wit is unrivaled. Dennis rolls his eyes and pulls himself up, wincing. He could go to the hospital wing, but it's such a minor scrape; he would hate to waste Madam Pomfrey's time.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Baxter Cranston demands, rushing forward. He towers over Dennis, and his wide frame makes it easy for him to prevent Dennis from escaping.

"I just want to go to Charms," Dennis says, his voice thing and quivering with free.

"_I just want to go to Charms,_" Baxter mimics in a shrill falsetto, earning more laughter from the group of Slytherins behind them. "Did you know Mudbloods stole our magic? That's the only reason you're here."

Dennis shakes his head, his fair hair thumping against his skin. He never stole anything, except a lollipop once when he was four.

"Thief!" Baxter says, his dark eyes narrowing. "Do you know what we do to thieves?"

Dennis shivers. He doesn't know what Baxter has in mind, but that tone is familiar, as is the malicious gleam in his eyes. That expression is an unspoken declaration of war. Dennis knows that nothing good will come from it.

How many times has he seen that look on a bully's face? How many times has he been mercilessly tormented for being different, for things he can't help? His height, his hair, his too-small nose… Now this? Now the blood within his veins?

It will never stop. As long as he is a Muggleborn, he will have a target on his back. He can accept that, but that doesn't mean he has to sit around and weight for the next attack. Maybe it won't fix things, but taking a stand can make a difference.

"I'm not afraid of you!" Dennis says, and he is grateful that his voice sounds stronger than he feels.

Baxter steps back, drawing his wand. "And that is a stupid mistake on your part," he says as he takes aim.

Dennis doesn't give him the chance to cast a spell. He lunges, bringing his fist upward. It sends a shockwave through his arm, and he doubts it does any real damage, but it's enough to stun Baxter into silence.

"Mister Creevey!" Professor McGonagall appears, walking toward him. She glances at the group of Slytherins. "Off to class! Now!"

Dennis doesn't bother to explain himself. That's another lesson he learned from the Muggle world: teachers don't care very much; they can say otherwise, but he knows that this is a black-and-white issue, and she will only condemn his violent retaliation. It's okay. He doesn't blame her for trying to use her best judgment.

So, as he follows her along, he remains quiet and keeps her head down as she explains that Orla Quirke went to find her, that she is appalled that he let his emotions get the best of him. Only when they're out of earshot of the other students does she offer him a smile. "Next time put your weight into it," she says.

Dennis looks up, surprised. "So… I'm not in trouble?"

"Two nights of detention," she says.

"That's not fair."

Professor McGonagall offers him an affectionate smile. "That's just how life is. Now, get to class."


	5. Saying Goodbye

_Word Count: 491_

* * *

"Katie," Angelina says, her voice cracking.

This can't be happening. If she tries really hard, she will wake up, and this will all be some bad dream. Katie won't be on the ground, bleeding from a cursed wound across her stomach with her lower body trapped beneath the crumbled statue.

But it is real. This isn't some dream. Katie, her close friend who she loves so dearly, who had insisted that Angelina fight tonight, does not look good at all.

"D-don't worry ab-bout me," Katie says, stuttering between gasping breaths. "F-fight. This could b-be our last sh-shot."

Does it make Angelina a coward because she suddenly doesn't want to fight? She doesn't think so. Some things are more important that accepting a challenge.

"Hey," she says, gently resting a hand on Katie's pale, sweat-beaded face. "Hey, I'm here. Nothing is going to keep me away from you, okay?"

This can't be how it ends. Katie is one of the strongest women she knows, and Angelina doesn't understand how this is her ending. Katie should have a happy, full life. It isn't fair.

The worst part is knowing there's nothing she can do. Katie has already lost so much blood that Angelina doubts a Blood-Replenishing Potion would make a difference. Besides, they're in the middle of a battle. Angelina doubts she could even get Katie to the hospital wing without getting hit by a curse herself.

"You can't leave me," Angelina whispers, shaking her head. "I'm not ready."

Katie's lips twitch into a pained smile. "Me neither." Her eyes close before slowly opening again. The light in them is dimming, and Angelina knows it won't be long before it fades completely. "I-I didn't have friends as a kid," she whispers. "Thank you."

Angelina feels tears sting her eyes. She blinks rapidly, sending tears falling down her cheeks. "You made it easy to love you," she says.

From the moment Katie had joined her on the Quidditch pitch for tryouts, Angelina had known they would be the best of friends. She had been right. While the two of them had never been inseparable, they had always gravitated back to one another, always seeming to belong together.

And now she has to say goodbye, and she doesn't know how.

"I'm scared," Katie admits, her breathing uneven and wild now.

Angelina will be strong for her. She fights away her tears, holding Katie's hand. "It's okay," she whispers, though she knows neither of them believe that. "It's going to be okay. I'm here."

She stays there until the light finally fades from Katie's eyes. For several seconds, she can't bring herself to move. It isn't right. Katie should be out there, fighting fiercely as she always does.

But she can't, not anymore. It's up to Angelina to fight now.

With one last look at her beloved friend, she climbs to her feet, drawing her wand. Katie would want her to fight, and so she will.


	6. Small In Death

_Home Ec, task 2: Write about someone physically small_

_Word Count: 625_

* * *

Oliver sees the shoe first. Its undone laces are frayed, and the once white canvas is stained with dirt and droplets of blood. It's such a small shoe, more fitting for a first year than an adult. His heart races painfully at the thought. All the first years should have been led to safety; it can't belong to one of them.

His stomach twists itself into knots. In the past few hours, he has seen so much destruction and pain, but he thinks this might be the thing to set him over the edge. Still, someone has to do it.

Oliver moves closer, stomach acid burning its way up his esophagus. He swallows it down, desperate to stay strong through this.

Among the rubble, he finds a foot poking out, clad only in a filthy sock that seems to be made up more of holes than fabric. The foot is just as small as the shoe, and Oliver feels his heart sink.

Carefully, he moves the remains of the statue. It isn't a child beneath. Not really. At the very least, it isn't an eleven-year-old student who has been left behind.

"Creevey," he says, the name surfacing somehow. He hasn't seen the boy in years; he hasn't even thought about him since the day he had sat in the stands, snapping photos of Gryffindor's Quidditch practice. "Colin Creevey."

How old is he now? Fourteen? Fifteen? Oliver can't be sure. All he knows is that Colin is so small in death that seeing his delicate features scraped and battered sends a shock to his system. He drops to his knees, sucking in a shaky breath that seems to fail to fill his lungs.

His fingers desperately press against the boy's thin wrist, hoping against hope that he will feel even the faintest hint of a pulse within those veins. There's nothing there.

He doesn't know why it hits him so hard. He hadn't even known Colin. Truthfully, he had found the kid to be a bit on the annoying side. Always a little too bright, a little too eager.

Maybe it's the stress of the battle. He has seen people he loves drop dead before his eyes. Many more are in the hospital wing, the wounded drastically outnumbering the Healers. Maybe it's the fact that Colin looks so childlike that Oliver is reminded that so many people fighting are still so young. Some may be legally adults, but they are still students, still _children. _

He forces himself to stand again. His head swims and swirls, but he cannot linger too long. They have been blessed with these precious moments of peace in order to gather their dead; he doesn't need to waste time.

Oliver lifts Colin carefully, trying not to notice how little he weighs. He doesn't know exactly when Neville Longbottom joins him, only that the burden is made even lighter by helping hands.

"Did you know him?" Oliver asks because Colin is closer to Neville's age. He glances over his shoulder at his companion.

Neville shrugs. "Not as well as I would have liked," he answers with a heavy sigh. "He shouldn't have been here. Must have snuck in." He chuckles, but the sound is hollow. "Typical."

They walk in silence for a few minutes. Around them, others carry their dead and help the injured hobble through the corridors in search of refuge.

"I've got it from here, Neville," Oliver says at last, breaking the silence.

Neville studies him, thin lips tugging into a frown. "You sure?"

"Positive."

Almost reluctantly, Neville adjusts Colin so that he fits perfectly in Oliver's arms. Oliver continues on alone, silent tears leaving warm, salty streaks down his cheeks as he mourns for a boy he never even knew.


	7. Time to Grow Up

_Reserve League, Season 6, Round 12: Write about Ron's relationship with another Hogwarts student _

_Word Count: 1001_

* * *

The war is over, but Ron still doesn't feel like he can breathe again. No matter what he does, there's that nagging feeling that tells him how useless he is, how he's still done more harm than good. He hates it. There are too many regrets, and it's suffocating.

He tries to focus on the task at hand. Hogwarts is still in ruins, and he has volunteered to help. Today, he and Hermione are in the library, trying to save any book they can.

"Something's bothering you," Hermione guesses.

Ron swallows. Where does he even begin? Maybe the war opened his eyes in ways he hadn't expected. Not only has he become so painfully aware of his own mortality, but he's realized that he has failed some people. The thought of carrying such regrets to his grave is painful.

"I feel like I need to make amends with people," he says with a heavy sigh before waving his wand and patching up the tattered cover of the book before him. "Is that weird? After everything that's happened, _that _is what's on my mind."

"Not weird," Hermione says. "I think it's very mature of you."

He can't remember Hermione ever calling him mature. All in all, he has to say that's a good sign that he's on the right track.

His eyes scan the library before resting on a dark-haired Ravenclaw sorting through pages for a match. "I think exactly where to start," he says. "Excuse me."

Ron hasn't spoken to Padma since fourth year. Really, he actively tries not to think about it. By now, he realizes how careless his younger self had been. Hermione had tried her best to guide him, but he had been stubborn.

Padma looks up as he approaches. Ron pauses, waving awkwardly at her, a nervous smile on his face. He's certain he looks like an idiot, and, judging by Padma's expression, he's probably right. "Hi," he says.

"Hello." She doesn't hold eye contact. Within seconds, she's back to work, sorting through tattered pages.

He moves closer, glancing over his shoulder. Hermione is watching him from a distance; she offers him an encouraging smile, and that is all he needs. It's time to grow up and right some wrongs.

"I was a jackass when I was fourteen."

"Your words," she says without looking up, "not mine."

"To be fair, most fourteen year olds are," he mutters, taking the matched pieces and casting a repairing charm on them. "Not you, though. You've always been nice."

It's true. Ron can't recall ever seeing Padma without a smile on her face and kind words of encouragement to those who needed them. They hadn't spent much time together during his fourth year, but he had really liked her. Maybe, in another life, they could have found a way to be close friends.

"Not to be rude, Ron, but I am sort of busy," she says. "I don't have time to chat."

"I know. I won't be long. Look… Padma, I…" It's time to grow up. Now or never. "I know I hurt you. I mean, we weren't dating or anything, but… Well, I didn't even know if you liked me. I thought you only went to the Yule Ball with me because Parvati went with Harry."

"I did," she confirms.

"Oh. Right. Yeah. I knew that," he says, heat building in his cheeks and spreading to his ears.

She looks up, an apologetic smile on her lips. "I didn't fancy you, but I did like you. Did it hurt my feelings? A bit, yeah," she explains. "It should have been a nice night, but I got abandoned."

"I'm so sorry."

Padma shakes her head, shaking loose some strands of her hair. "Don't be. I assure you I haven't spent the past three years crying because you didn't want to dance with me. We didn't have a connection. It's hardly the end of the world."

He clears his throat, scrubbing his palm over the back of his neck. Had he expected that? No. And yet this whole thing seems to be underwhelming. He had tried to summon the courage, and now he thinks that it hadn't been worth it all. It seems that Padma hasn't thought much of him at all over the years.

Somehow, it's almost a relief.

"If you want to apologize, I think maybe you should start with Lavender."

He winces. Sixteen had been a year of just as much jackass-ery. Still, at least he's learning. He just hates that Lavender had to hurt in order for him to learn to be better.

"How is she?" he asks.

He remembers seeing Greyback on top of her and all the screaming.

"She's stable," Padma answers, frowning. "It was bad. She still has a lot of healing to do."

He nods. If anyone deserves an apology from him, it's definitely Lavender. Why had he been so stupid? Instead of playing games and trying to make Hermione jealous, he should have been honest.

At least he learned. He's growing, and he is trying so hard to learn from his mistakes.

"Parvati and I are going to visit her later," she says. "We plan on leaving after lunch. Would you like to join us?"

Life is too short and too precious. Lavender could have died. He owes it to her.

"Yeah," Ron says. "I'd like that."

Padma nods and offers him a smile. "Good. Now, I've got it from here. You can go back to Hermione."

"Right." With that, he turns and takes a step toward where Hermione is waiting.

"Oh, and Ron?"

He looks behind him again. Padma is focused on her work, but she's still smiling. "You're a good person."

"Thanks."

He doesn't always feel like it. Some days, he is too caught up in his mistakes to see the good. But he feels like he is finally taking a step in the right direction. With a little luck, he can become the person he wants so badly to be.


	8. Still Brothers

_For my darling Grandma Lizzypuff. Love youuuu._

_Word Count: 769_

* * *

Sirius is halfway down the corridor, bag full of parchment and quills, prepared for an extended, if grudging, study session with Remus, when he freezes, scowls, turns on his heel, and stalks off in the direction he came from.

"Sirius!"

He doesn't stop, doesn't turn around. It hurts too much. It has been the most painful thing for the last few years, and he wants to go on, living in denial.

"Sirius! Don't make me jinx your feet to the floor!"

"I'd like to see you try," he calls back, and he hates himself for grinning. Things aren't going back to the way they were before; he needs to accept it and continue with what he's done since the Sorting Hat rested upon Regulus' head and declared him a Slytherin.

Regulus catches up to him with surprising ease. His slender fingers wrap around Sirius' arm. It would be easy to shake him off and keep going, but something stops him. Exhaling heavily, Sirius turns, eyes narrowing.

"_What_?"

Once, Regulus would have flinched away at that tone. Now, his little brother just stands tall, tilting his head back ever so slightly as though he's sizing Sirius up. If he's honest, Sirius is proud. Regulus has always been so soft that the world could easily break him. Maybe he's found a little strength at last.

"Are you just going to continue brood every time you see me?" Regulus demands.

"I do _not _brood!"

"You brood," Regulus says, eyes rolling. "We used to be friends. Now, it's like you can barely stand the sight of me."

Sirius scoffs. "Hmmm… I wonder why that could be…"

"You know, when you wrote home and said you were Sorted into Gryffindor, _I _stood by you," Regulus says, folding his arms over his chest. "I am not the enemy."

"But you are!"

Even as he says the words, Sirius knows it isn't true. Despite the grudges and rivalry, he knows that all Slytherins aren't bad. Andromeda broke tradition and married a Muggleborn; Slughorn is annoying and maybe a bit of an elitist, but he's an okay bloke.

Isn't it possible that maybe Regulus is still the same boy Sirius grew up with? How many nights had Regulus crawled into bed, trembling and seeking comfort as their mother and father screamed at one another and broke things against the wall? They've hidden under that blanket, exchanging stories and jokes, telling secrets and making promises.

It's still Regulus. He is all grown up and dressed in silver and green like every other Black in their family, but it is still him. There is still a jovial twinkle in his storm cloud grey eyes, and the curve of the corners of his lips is so familiar that it makes Sirius' heart ache.

He deflates and slumps forward slightly. Heat floods his cheeks as he realizes how stupid he's been. Of course it's still Regulus. Of course something like being a Slytherin couldn't keep them apart. Sirius had been foolish for thinking otherwise.

"I'm sorry," Sirius whispers.

Regulus rests a hand on his chest, clutching at his shirt directly over his heart. He uses his free hand to fan himself. "Sirius Black actually _apologized?_" He smiles that familiar smile, causing his nose to scrunch up. Mother always told him it would cause early wrinkles. "This is truly a first. Excuse me while I mark this in my calendar."

"Like you can even read a calendar," Sirius says with a snort, playfully shoving his brother.

"How rude! I'll have you know that I was almost a Ravenclaw."

Sirius tips his head to the side, curious. He vaguely recalls his brother's Sorting. It had been a quick one, but not nearly as quick as it might have been, not instantaneous. "Why weren't you?"

"I…" A soft pink stains his cheeks. Regulus pushes a hand through his hair, awkwardly ruffling the long strands. "Well… I asked to be a Gryffindor. I wanted to be like you. The Sorting Hat said I would be best in Ravenclaw, but that's not where you are. I wasn't brave enough to rock the boat, so I was put in Slytherin."

"There's nothing wrong with being a Slytherin," Sirius says, and the words feel so strange to say, but he knows he's right.

"Really? I thought you hated us."

Sirius swallows down the guilt. "You? Never. Merlin knows I tried, but I never could."

"So, are we brothers again?" Regulus asks.

Sirius grins and holds his arms open. Regulus accepts the hug. "We will always be brothers," Sirius tells him. "Nothing is taking that away from us again."


	9. I Spy

_For Elizabeth. Sometimes I can let my boys be happy._

_Word Count: 409_

* * *

"I spy with my little eye…" Dennis trails off, and Colin can imagine him so clearly, scrunching his face up in thought. "Something… blue."

"Den, I swear, if it's the sky, I'm throwing you in the first body of water we find," Colin snorts, eyes rolling. Still, he smiles because at least Dennis is finding a way to enjoy himself.

God knows they need some semblance of happiness in their lives right now. It has been two months since the Muggleborn Registration had gone into effect. They've been running ever since, and Colin has never been so grateful for his time as a Scout. They don't have magic on their side this time, and it has proven to be more difficult than he would like.

But Dennis is there, and Dennis is smiling. The world can't be so bad. Colin has always said he would start worrying only if his little brother did first.

"It's not the sky." Dennis says it a little too quickly, and Colin suspects that he's lying. "Come on, Col! You gotta guess!"

"I dunno."

Colin looks around. _Something blue. _"A bird?" he guesses, even though he doesn't see any birds around. Maybe his eyes aren't as good as they once were. "Um… Some berries?"

"Are you actually guessing, or are you just saying things that might be blue?" Dennis asks, picking up his pace and playfully pushing Colin.

"Don't you think we're too old to be playing I Spy?" He feels guilty the moment the question leaves his lips. "Sorry."

He doesn't understand his brother. The world is falling apart all around them, and Dennis is still clinging to his childhood and innocence. Maybe it's more refreshing than Colin will ever admit.

"Something blue…" Colin murmurs, looking around.

The least he can do is let Dennis have his happiness for a little longer. The world is trying to take that from him, and he refuses to see the joy fade from his brother's eyes.

"It's your shirt, isn't it?" Colin asks, laughing softly.

Dennis grins, clearly so proud of himself. His shirt looks more brown than blue in most places, covered with mud and dirt from their time on the run. "You got it!" he says. "Go on, Col. Your turn."

"I spy with my little eye something red."

Maybe they are too old for these games, but that won't stop him. It makes Dennis happy, and that's all Colin needs to keep going.


	10. Dress to Impress

_Word Count: 408_

* * *

"I don't really have much experience with the whole dating thing," Neville says, poking his head out from behind the curtains around his bed. "You have no idea how much I appreciate this."

Hermione smiles and shrugs. It isn't a big deal, really. With Harry and Ron opting out of returning to make up their seventh year, Hermione has had nothing but free time. Truth be told, she's been desperate for something to distract her. As much as she enjoys school, she has started to realize that her friends always kept her from dying of boredom. So, when Neville confided that Hannah had asked him on a date and he didn't know what to do, Hermione had jumped at the opportunity to help out.

"What do you think?" Neville asks, stepping out. The mint green shirt looks nice with the charcoal vest, but it seems a little too formal for a few drinks in the pub.

"It's nice," Hermione says kindly.

He must be able to read something in her tone because he sighs, slumping forward slightly. Normally, neither would care, but Hermione knows that Neville wants this to be perfect. She wants nothing more than to do her part to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible. Unfortunately, that means they've been at this for nearly an hour, and Hermione thinks she has seen every piece of clothing Neville owns by now.

Once again, he disappears behind the curtain. Hermione smiles to herself. She's happy that Hannah has taken an interest in her friend. Though they have spoken much over the years, Hermione has always found Hannah to be a sweetheart. At least Neville's first proper date will be with someone good.

"Okay!" Neville calls. "I've got a really good feeling about this one."

When he steps out this time, Hermione grins. Just like that, the awkward, fumbling boy is gone, and someone else has taken his place. Neville adjusts the sleeves of the tan cardigan before offering her an uncertain smile. "Tell me it actually looks good and I'm not just a rubbish judge of fashion."

"Neville, I think this is the one," she says, stepping closer and picking a bit of grey lint from the white shirt. "You look amazing."

Maybe it's not the type of grand adventures she and the boys used to get up to, but it doesn't matter. Hermione feels just as happy and accomplished, even in the most mundane things.


	11. Dating Advice

_Word Count: 887_

* * *

"Evans, if you don't tell me the key to Marlene's heart, I will die!" Sirius announces throwing himself onto the couch with such force that it scrapes against the floor. "I will perish, Evans! Do you want that?"

Lily doesn't even bother to look up from her book. "That's a little melodramatic, don't you think?" she asks with a snort.

Sirius groans, and there's so much anguish in the sound that Lily decides to put her studies on hold for a moment. Sirius looks so pitiful. It's strange to think that he might actually fancy anyone. Lily has always assumed he's happy being single. After all, why else would he ignore the many admirers he's had over the years. Maybe he just fancies Marlene so much that he is blissfully unaware that he breaks hearts just by walking into a room.

"You really like her, don't you?" she asks softly.

"I do."

Lily wishes she could assure him that it's mutual. Unfortunately, she's only ever heard Marlene refer to Sirius as funny, and she isn't entirely convinced it had been a compliment. Still, at least she knows that Marlene doesn't hate him.

"Are you the one who gives Potter the rubbish advice on how to win my heart?"

Sirius purses his lips, cheeks blushing a soft pink. He looks almost apologetic. "Well, to be fair, Peter helps too," he mumbles, sitting up. "Is it really that bad?"

Lily laughs. Maybe Sirius really is that oblivious. It shouldn't be surprising, really. After all, James had to get his brilliant ideas from somewhere, and she knows that Remus is too thoughtful to be the source.

"If you keep on that way, you will have zero chance with Marlene." She pauses, tipping her head to the side and considering. "Actually, maybe less than zero. I think your chances might honestly be in the negatives."

Sirius winces. He shakes his head and sighs heavily, but he doesn't sound defeated. "Okay. Don't follow my own advice," he says. "That's… Merlin, Evans. Way to spare my feelings."

She snorts and waves a dismissive hand. Maybe it had been a bit on the harsh side, but sometimes she thinks Potter and his merry band of idiots need a wakeup call. Still, she does offer him a smile that might be some semblance of an apology. She doesn't actually want to be cruel; she just needs him to understand that women are complicated and he can't just woo them with whatever ridiculous tricks he has up his sleeves.

"Sirius, have you ever actually talked to a girl before?"

"What do you mean? I'm talking to you right now."

Lily pinches the bridge of her nose. "God give me strength," she mutters under her breath.

It isn't Sirius' fault. Really, it isn't. She thinks he might have been sheltered as a kid. While she doesn't know much about him, Remus has mentioned a few things that actually worry her.

Maybe he's never really had the chance to talk to a girl other than her and sometimes Alice and Marlene. As confident and suave as Sirius may appear, he really is an awkward idiot. It's sort of sweet, really.

"Okay, first step is to talk to Marlene. What does she like? You can show your affection with the smallest gestures. Does she like reading? Suggest a book to her. Pick her favorite flower."

"But what does she like? You're her friend."

"Yes, I am," Lily confirms. "But I am not about to do this for you. If you fancy her, you have to make the effort. That's the thing about starting a romance, Sirius. It takes effort. If you don't have the energy for that…"

He shakes his head. "No! I do. Okay. Effort. Small gestures," he says. "What else?"

He sounds so sincere that she finds herself melting. This really does mean a lot to him. She smiles to herself, chuckling softly. Who knows. Maybe he will give Potter better advice, and…

She forces her attention back to the conversation at hand. Potter has nothing to do with this, and she wouldn't date him even if he was the last person on earth.

"Okay. Step two…"

…

Two weeks later, she sees Sirius and Marlene sitting in front of the fireplace, holding hands and lost in conversation. Lily sits on the couch, watching from a distance and smiling to herself. He had taken her advice.

"Cute, aren't they?" James sits beside. "It really makes me wonder why we don't have that."

"Maybe because you're an annoying toerag," Lily suggests sweetly.

"Maybe," he says, and the admission is so sincere that it catches Lily off guard.

Maybe Sirius really has relayed her advice. Maybe there is a chance that James can grow up and be something more than some ridiculous idiot who doesn't know how to take anything seriously.

"Do you like coffee?" he asks. "I would love to take you out for coffee this weekend when we go to Hogsmeade."

Lily can't help but smile. She shouldn't because she has spent so much time hating James Potter. But there is something different about him now, something so sincere. It wouldn't hurt to take a chance.

"Okay. One coffee, and that's it."

He grins a crooked grin and offers her a mock salute. "Whatever you say, Evans."


	12. Wait and Believe

_Word Count: 537_

* * *

Dennis sits by the fire, staring up at the inky sky above. Overhead, stars twinkle, and he finds himself smiling.

When they were kids, he and Colin would lie out on the lawn, looking up at the sky and making wishes on stars. He misses the faith he'd had in those days. The world might have been bad sometimes, but he just knew that he could make a wish, then _abracadabra! _Everything would be okay.

He knows better now. Maybe it's only a recent lesson. When things first started getting bad, he had believed it would be okay. Colin has always said that Harry Potter is the greatest, and Dennis had truly thought he would be able to stop this.

And now…

He sighs and looks around. They aren't camping out because it's fun. They're camping out because they're running. This week alone, they've encountered three bands of Snatchers. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if they could actually use magic, but they both still have the Trace on them.

He hears rustling and sits a little straighter, his body tense. It's just Colin, returning with an armful of firewood.

"You should be sleeping," Colin says, frowning.

Dennis shrugs. "My brain doesn't like to shut up."

Colin's lips quirk. He sets the wood down and sits across from him. "Your brain and I have that in common," he jokes.

Dennis laughs. At least there's still laughter. He thinks things would be absolutely miserable if he didn't have Colin. Somehow, against all odds, they find some semblance of joy, even on the worst days.

"Remember when we thought wishing on stars could fix anything?" Dennis asks. His stomach growls, a reminder that there is so much they need to fix about the current state of things.

"Hey, I wished for a bike for my ninth birthday," Colin reminds him. "It worked."

Dennis snorts, shaking his head. "I'm sure you reminding Dad about it twice a week had nothing to do with getting a bike."

"Well… Maybe."

"Do you think…" Dennis trails off. It feels so silly. They're older now. Teenagers. Colin is nearly an adult in the wizarding world. Grown people don't go around wishing on stars. That's for the young and foolish. "It wouldn't hurt to make a wish, would it?"

Colin doesn't laugh. That's why Dennis loves his brother so much. He can say the most ridiculous things, and Colin wouldn't judge him for it.

"I'll do it if you do," Colin says.

Dennis looks up, his eyes resting on the brightest star he can find. In the back of his mind, he thinks it might actually be a planet, but he doesn't have his telescope, so he doesn't worry about it.

_I wish things would get better_, he thinks before closing his eyes.

The moment passes, and he opens them. Colin grins. "What did you wish for, Den?"

"You know it doesn't come true if you tell."

Truthfully, Dennis doubts it will come true at all. It doesn't matter, though. He has to try, has to believe.

This world can't stay dark forever. There has to be light waiting to envelop them once again. All he has to do is wait and believe.


	13. Hope For the Broken

_Word Count: 506_

* * *

"How are you feeling today?" Oliver asks.

It's a stupid question. He can already guess exactly how Percy feels. It's been just one day since the battle, since he had watched his brother die. He's still a little messed up, still so damaged.

Without a word, Percy adds sugar to his teacup, stirring it. He doesn't speak much anymore. Oliver can't blame him. They've all been through hell, but he thinks Percy has gone through an incomprehensible sort of pain.

"I have to go to practice," Oliver says. "Help yourself to whatever you need."

Percy doesn't answer or even acknowledge that he's heard Oliver at all. Oliver doesn't hold it against him; he's dealing with so much right now.

"I'll be back around noon."

…

Percy doesn't speak that night either. They sit in silence, eating curry from the little Muggle shop up the road. It's quickly become Oliver's new favorite.

If Percy enjoys it, he doesn't give any indication of it.

_It's going to be okay, _Oliver tells himself. _Everything will be fine._

Sometimes he almost believes it.

…

He wakes when he feels a soft weight on the mattress. Percy is there, and Oliver is reminded of their time together at Hogwarts. Percy had climbed into his bed the night after Penelope had been Petrified. It's a soft cry for help, and he will not let his dear friend down now.

He hugs Percy and presses a kiss to his forehead. The way Percy relaxes beside him floods Oliver with relief.

"I don't know what to do," Percy whispers.

"Keep moving."

Percy laughs, the sound dry and bitter. "I'm not sure that I see a future anymore."

"It's there," Oliver assures him. "You just have to keep striving for it. It's what Fred would have wanted."

"I miss him so much." Percy's body shudders as he is racked by a great sob. "It doesn't make sense. Without rules, everything's chaos. And this… This is chaos in its purest form."

Oliver holds him closer. "We're going to get through this," he says. "Together."

…

Percy almost doesn't go to the funeral. He says Fred is dead because of him, that he can never outrun the guilt. Oliver tells him that Fred loved him, that he wouldn't blame Percy for this.

Mrs. Weasley pulls Oliver into a warm hug. "Thank you," she says, patting his shoulder when she releases him. "We were worried he wouldn't come."

"He almost didn't," Oliver admits.

He watches as Percy holds George so tightly that he might never let go. Charlie and Bill join in on the hug, then Ron and Ginny.

Mr. Weasley shakes his head, smiling brightly despite the somber affair. "You were always such a dear boy," he says. "If only you had gone for Tutshill."

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley laughs.

Oliver finds himself smiling. There is definitely a future, definitely hope. All that's left to do is move past this pain.

They will, somehow. He has no doubt in his mind. Everything will be okay in the end.


	14. Return to Privet Drive

_Word Count: 793_

* * *

It feels strange to be back at Privet Drive after so many years away. Maybe there's a part of Harry that had never planned to come back at all; he hasn't been particularly nostalgic for the place and its terrible memories. Truthfully, he wouldn't be here at all if Dudley hadn't reached out to him.

As he walks up to Number Four, he notices a young girl, maybe around Lily's age, with blonde pigtails and rosy cheeks laying in the flower bed. She adjusts her glasses as Harry approaches.

"It's fake fur!" she says proudly, and it takes several moments for Harry to realize she means the rainbow-striped fur vest that she wears.

"Oh, good," he says. "I was worried you might have killed some unicorns for that vest."

She adjusts her glasses again, pushing them higher up on her nose. "Unicorns are white," she says dryly. "Not rainbow."

Harry chuckles. He thinks this kid would get along swimmingly with Lily.

The door opens, and Dudley steps out. The years have changed him. He looks like a typical suburban dad with his polo shirt and khakis and thinning hair, though he has retained his boxer's build. "Daisy, this is your cousin, Harry," he says.

Daisy doesn't look impressed. "He can't be my cousin. He's _old_, Daddy!" She purses her lips, seeming to lose herself in thought. A beat passes, and she begins to sing softly and off-key. "Old, old Harry. At least he isn't scary. Scary and hairy and 'lergic to dairy."

Dudley shakes his head. "Would you like to come in?"

Harry really doesn't _want _to, but he follows Dudley inside. Number Four has changed a lot. The living room looks more lively. Dudley seems to have tossed aside his mother's love of tidiness. There are toys and crayons and glitter on the table and floor, and books are stacked on the couch.

Dudley notices him staring and laughs. "Mum hates it," he says. "She always insists that Daisy and I visit her and Dad at their place."

Harry nods, but he isn't really listening. It's so surreal to be back in this house. He ventures onward. The cupboard under the stairs has been boarded up.

Dudley's cheeks flood with color. "I… I realized… We weren't good to you."

"No," Harry says. "You weren't."

Harry follows Dudley into the kitchen. His cousin has prepared a light snack of muffins and coffee.

"I could blame my parents and say they never taught me," Dudley says, plucking a muffin from the tray. "Christ… I was awful, and I never learned to take accountability. It doesn't excuse what I did."

Harry remembers when they were fifteen. He had seen the way Dudley changed after the Dementor attack. Sometimes he almost feels sorry for his cousin. Dudley had to be broken so badly before he could grow and change.

"So… You have a daughter," Harry says, grabbing a muffin and biting into it. It's orange and cranberry, and he lets out a satisfied sigh.

"I do. She's my world," Dudley says, grinning.

"Is it…" Harry clears his throat. "Is it just you?"

"Ingrid decided she didn't want to be a mother," Dudley confirms. "I didn't even know she was pregnant. She just dropped the baby off with a note."

Harry laughs. "I guess Daisy and I have that in common."

"She's bullied too," Dudley tells him. "I let her express herself how she likes. I figured my parents didn't do that, and I was an awful kid, so maybe I should do the opposite, you know?"

Harry frowns. Daisy seems like such a nice kid. He can't imagine why anyone would want to pick on her. Then again, he had been innocent, and he had been an easy target.

"Do you think God is punishing me?" Dudley asks.

"I'm not sure that I believe in God," Harry answers, shrugging, "but I like to think he wouldn't be a massive jerk like that."

"I'm sorry," Dudley says softly.

Harry's lips twitch. "I know." He rests a hand on Dudley's shoulder. "All is forgiven, Big D."

"Ah, Christ. I almost forgot about that nickname."

The front door bursts open, and Daisy runs inside. In the time it has taken Harry and Dudley to catch up, she has managed to become covered in mud from head to toe. Flowers and leaves poke out from beneath the grey-brown. "Daddy!" she squeals. "Cousin Scary Harry! Lookit! I'm a monster!"

Harry laughs as he watches Dudley scoop his daughter up. "Even monsters need to get baths, little miss," Dudley tells her.

Returning to Privet Drive had been difficult, but Harry thinks that maybe he had needed this. It feels like he finally has some semblance of closure, and maybe everything is okay.


	15. Honor

_Word Count: 601_

_Warning: death of a pet_

* * *

_He's just a puppy when Hagrid finds him. Though his frame is big, he is skin and bones, and he whimpers when Hagrid touches him._

_"S'okay, little fella," Hagrid tells him, smiling. "There ya go. I won' hurt ya."_

…

Fang gives a pitiful whimper, and Hagrid tries to hold himself together. It isn't easy. He's raised Fang since he was a pup.

At least Hagrid knows thay Fang isn't hurting in his last hour. Slughorn is a good man; the potion helps.

"It's gonna be alrigh'," Hagrid says, trembling hand brushing over his companion. "I've got ya."

Fang looks up at him with those big, pitiful eyes. All Hagrid sees in them is love and warmth. Good. That means he's done right by Fang over all these years.

…

_"A dog?" Rosmerta shakes her head, smiling fondly at him as he passes near the Three Broomsticks. "Are you trying to open an animal sanctuary in your basement?" She frowns, a silent apology. "I mean… I just… You always have some new creature."_

_Hagrid shrugs, scratching the puppy's head. "I couldn' jus' leave him. Poor thing wouldn't stand a chance."_

_Maybe someone would have come along who would have taken pity on the puppy. Still, he doesn't think anyone would care for him the way Hagrid already does. The puppy curls close to him, trembling in the cool breeze._

_"I'd bes' be off."_

_"Wait. I have some scraps. Take them."_

…

Hagrid adjusts Fang's scarlet blanket, trying not to notice how cold Fang has grown. "You're gonna play with Aragog when you get to the other side, aren' ya?" he asks, sniffling.

Aragog had been a good friend too. Hagrid wishes he could be immune to the pain that comes with loss. Hasn't he lost so much over the years? He should be used to it.

It still makes his heart ache in a way he doesn't understand.

…

_Fang. It's an ironic name for him, like something someone would name a ferocious beast. He turns out to be a lovable, affectionate coward who drools too much and doesn't respect anyone's personal space._

_He couldn't be more perfect._

…

"Ya didn't have to come," he says, but the words are slurred and choked as he cries, clinging to the scarlet blanket.

Of course Harry would come. He's always been the most loyal friend he could ever ask for. Harry has always been the one to remind him that humans can be good too.

"I did," Harry says, waving his wand. The dirt slowly fills the hole, covering Fang's body.

The others are there too, their faces stricken with grief that must mirror his own. Luna sings a sad and delicate song. Hermione clings to Ron as Ginny and Neville exchange stories about Hagrid's most loyal friend.

…

_Fang is there during his darkest days, a faithful companion who makes the world seem a little better. Hagrid doesn't know what he would do without him._

…

"I promise you, it's okay," Harry says softly as they sit inside the hut, sharing ale (and tea for Hermione, who tells Hagrid she's having a baby in February).

"I'm not okay." Hagrid wipes tears from his eyes, sniffling. "I will be. One day."

Fang had been his best friend, and he had been a constant source of light and joy in Hagrid's life. It would dishonor his memory to live in darkness for long. He will carry on and honor Fang, and he will learn to smile again.

But that is for another day. For now, he will fall apart, knowing he's safe among friends.


	16. No Promises

_Word Count: 814_

* * *

Neville doesn't expect to find himself in the dingy bar. Judging by the irritated look on Aberforth's face, he assumes his company, while not unexpected, isn't exactly welcome.

"Well?" The old man glares at him. He's clad in peach-and-lilac striped pajamas, and Neville suspects he's ready to go back to bed.

"Sorry," Neville mutters. "I… Um… I don't know what I was expecting, but I know this wasn't it."

He glances over his shoulder at the strange passageway hidden behind the portrait. Why is he even here? The Room of Requirement always seems to know how to help them, and he can only assume the passage had been a gift.

"My sister says you're hungry."

"Your… sister?" Neville supposes he can see the resemblance. At the very least, the girl in the portrait has the same piercing blue eyes. "Right. Yeah. We need food."

Aberforth nods. "Sit right there. Don't move. Don't touch anything."

Neville obeys because he doesn't know what else to do. Given the state of the world, he doesn't want to trust anyone so quickly, but he feels like maybe he can trust Aberforth. Why else would the Room lead him here?

The old bartender returns after a moment with a basket. Neville peeks inside, his stomach growling. Bread, meats, cheese, fruit. There are even a few snacks thrown in.

"Should be able to cast some duplicating charms on them," Aberforth tells him. "Be safe out there, boy."

"That's it, then?"

Aberforth studies for a moment, amusement in his bright blue eyes. "What were you expecting, eh? In case you haven't noticed, the world is a bit mucked up out there. I'll do what I can. Don't go asking more of me."

Neville wants to protest. He opens his mouth but quickly snaps it shut again. "Right," he says. "Got it."

…

Neville stands in front of the mirror, studying himself. When did he become a man? Merlin knows he still feels like a child.

In the background, he can see the others eating another bit of the enchanted food. It's lasted well over a week now, and they have enough charms in place to ensure that they stay fed. He doesn't _need_ to return to the Hog's Head. They are just fine without Aberforth.

And yet…

He checks his watch. The pub will close in a few hours. Something is bothering him, and he has to visit the old bartender again. He can't shake the feeling.

…

Aberforth doesn't look happy to see him, but he doesn't complain. "Hot chocolate?" he asks. "Or tea?"

Neville licks his lips. It's been so long since he's had chocolate anything. "Hot chocolate."

With a grunt, the old man begins to prepare the drink. "Go on and say what you have to say," he says. "Then I can toss you out, and you'll leave me alone."

Neville doesn't like his attitude, but he decides not to comment on that. Right now, Aberforth could be a great ally. He wants to stay on his good side.

"You can't stay neutral."

Aberforth barks out a laugh. "Watch me, boy."

"Your brother didn't," Neville says.

Aberforth scowls, and Neville worries he might have struck a nerve. After a moment of tense silence, Aberfoth sets the mug of hot chocolate down in front of Neville. "And look what happened to him."

Neville shakes his head. How could anyone see what's happening and not be angry? "The world we know is gone," he says. "But keeping our humanity? That's a choice."

"Spoken like a true Ravenclaw," Aberforth notes.

"I'm a Gryffindor."

That seems to amuse Aberforth. He studies Neville, grinning. "Well, that explains a lot. Gryffindors are always too bloody stubborn for their own good." He sits across from Neville, pulling out a bottle of icegin. "In this life, you were given the opportunity to change the world. My time has passed."

"It's never too late," Neville insists.

"I'm an old man. What can I do?"

But Neville knows that age means nothing in the grand scheme of things. His grandmother is old, but she is a force to be reckoned with. Dumbledore had been one of the greatest men he had ever known. McGonagall is terrifying.

"Help us," Neville says. "Keep an eye out for us. Let us know if you here or see anything."

Aberforth considers. He takes a swig of his drink, sighing. "You remind me a bit of him. Albus, I mean."

"Thank you."

"I make no promises, boy. But I will try," Aberforth says. "We may very well be on our own, but that doesn't mean we have to go through this alone."

Neville takes a sip of his hot chocolate. Moments ago, his drink had been his greatest cause for excitement. Now, he has something else to look forward to. Aberforth is an ally. Maybe they have a chance.

"Cheers," Neville says.

"Cheers."


	17. Friends and Change

_Word Count: 635_

* * *

Ron states at the squares of the calendar. Each day of the month has been crossed out with an orange (though Hermione insists the proper shade is called tangerine, and Ron isn't arguing) x, counting down the days.

The days until he and Hermione get married.

The days until tomorrow.

That realization hits yet again, and his stomach twists itself into knots. Sometimes it feels like a dream. Maybe there's a part of him that still assumes he will wake up, and Hermione will still be just a friend, and all of this won't be real.

His mother says it's normal. Bill talks about how he had been so sure Fleur would change her mind and run the other way. Even George who has always oozed confidence, admits he had nearly puked before his wedding because did Angelina _really _like him?

Ron wishes he could be immune to the panic and nerves, but he isn't. It's hardly fair. He loves Hermione, and she clearly loves him. So why do the tangerine lines terrify him?

"You look a bit pale." Harry's voice draws him out of his thoughts. Ron had been so busy fretting, he hadn't even noticed Harry sneak in.

"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron gasps, resting a hand over his chest. His heart races, and he's certain it has nothing to do with Harry startling him.

"Should I call your mum?" Harry asks, studying Ron, concern clear in his emerald eyes.

Ron waves a dismissive hand. "Don't you know who I am? I am the king of fine," he says before grimacing. The title had sounded better in his head. "Actually, that's stupid. But I'm okay."

Harry doesn't look so convinced. "You look like you're going to faint."

"Just got done with cardio."

Harry snorts, eyes rolling. He shakes his head and moves closer, clapping Ron on the shoulder. "It's okay to be nervous," he says. "You're taking the plunge, as they say."

Ron thinks it's a ridiculous expression, but he doesn't comment. _Nervous. _It seems like an understatement, honestly.

"What if she decides she's making a mistake?" Ron asks, heat spreading through his cheeks. He pushes a hand through his hair, letting out a heavy sigh. "She could have anyone, Harry."

"But she doesn't want _anyone_," Harry assures him. "She only wants you."

There's still a part of him that worries. Maybe it will never go away. He's spent so long living in someone else's shadow that he's forgotten what it is to be certain and sure.

But Harry's right. Hermione has chosen him, and she's a clever woman who knows what she wants.

"I'm a wreck, huh?" Ron laughs.

Harry lifts his hand, indicating a small amount with his thumb and index finger. He grins, and Ron can't help but relax.

Ron doesn't know what he'd do without Harry. They've been friends for what feels like an eternity now. It hasn't always been easy, but they're still going strong.

"We don't have to go out tonight," Harry tells him. "We can just stay in."

A rush of relief washes over him. Truth be told, Ron has been so on edge that he hadn't even realized he didn't want to go out and have one last wild and free night. Staying in with pizza and beer, laughing and reminiscing sounds so much better.

"This is why you're my best man," Ron says, grinning as he offers Harry a thumbs up.

"I'll just owl the fellas and let them know we've had a change of plans."

Things are changing, but not completely. Not really. There are little shifts here and there, but it isn't so scary. Ron still has the greatest friends in the world, and tomorrow, one of them will be his wife.

All in all, he thinks that everything will be just fine.


End file.
